She Was Never a Queen

 

If I were in drag, I’d be Tammy Faye Bakker.

I want to walk up on the stage

while a hymn interrupts the dance music.

Hell if I could tell you

one off the top of my head.

I clutch so many tissues

that I  leave a trail behind me.

With mascara streaming down my face,

I break through the crowd screaming

Jim, Jim, how could you?

One twink turns to another and asks

Does that bitch think he’s Dolly Parton?

An older man will mutter nearby

Kids remember nothing,

kicking back another martini

as I turn away, the lights turn red,

and Tammy Faye snaps her fingers

in a zigzag to drums thumping

The Beautiful People by Marilyn Manson,

showing the backside of a woman

who won’t take shit anymore.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Justin Holliday is a lecturer and poet. His work has appeared in Lunch Review, Bloodbond, Queen Mob's Teahouse, Vanilla Sex, and elsewhere. 

 

 

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